Free A Witch Central Wedding by Debora Geary Page B

unbroken.
    Sometimes you just had to trust your instincts.  Whatever life brought, she and Devin would hold, too.
    Lauren picked up a set of keys off the table and blew a kiss at Nat and the sleeping Kenna.  One last thing to do before she flew down the aisle.
     



Jennie backed into a corner, out of the decorating line of fire.  Mia dashed by in hot pursuit of Leo and the purple streamers he’d wrapped around himself like a cape.
    “Your grandson dearly loves purple,” said Caro, knitting contentedly in a nearby chair.  She pulled a skein of eye-popping yarn out of her bag.  “Think he’d like a hat out of this?”
    Jennie eyed the blinding mix of orange and purple.  “Do you even have to ask?”
    “Thought so.”  Caro grinned and slid it back in the bag.  “I’ll do one up for his brother, too.  Make them easy to find.”
    Toddlers with purple hair shouldn’t be easy to lose, but Leo in particular delighted in regular disappearing acts.  Fortunately, his magic limited him to escapes made on his own two feet, and so far, they’d always managed to track him down. 
    Moira emerged from the crowd, watching the chase with an amused look on her face.  “It’s the wee ones in charge of decorating today, is it?”
    “Aren’t they always?”  Caro slid over a chair to make room for the new arrival.  “Aaron threw them out of the kitchen.”
    Jennie laughed—they’d thrown her out too.  Aaron and Lizard had joined forces and banned all food incompetents from their co-ruled domain further down the beach.  Whatever was on the menu, it had been wafting drool-worthy smells for hours.  They’d even put Moira’s cauldron to work, bubbling happily over a beach fire powered by Caro’s knitting.
    At a Witch Central wedding, everyone had a job.  Jennie patted the camera bag over her shoulder.  Hers would come later.
    And it wasn’t only the witchlings who could be counted on for the day’s helping of mischief.  She looked over at Moira, getting settled on a chair far too innocently.  “And what will you be bestowing on the newlyweds?”  Moira’s gifts were the stuff of legend—and responsible for more than a few witchling arrivals nine months later.
    Caro’s lips quirked.  “Devin read her the riot act, I hear.”
    That was news to Jennie.  And Devin was one of the very few people who might be able to kibosh Moira’s usual antics.  Mischief was written into his DNA, but the relationship between the two of them had always been special.
    And he wouldn’t have asked on his own behalf.  Not every modern witch appreciated the gifting of an Irish fertility spell—and Moira had been known to try to sneak them by when the happily wedded couple wasn’t paying a lot of attention.
    “We had a wee chat.”  Moira’s voice was suspiciously bland.  “I gave him my word I’d not be interfering overmuch.”
    That sounded like the kind of promise a smart witch could wiggle around a million ways.  Jennie sent her thoughts Caro’s direction.  Any idea what she’s up to?
    Nope.  Caro sounded amused.  But if I were those two, I’d be putting her gift into magical quarantine.
    Jennie just rolled her eyes and headed off to help Mia corner Leo.  Irish blessings were about as easy to contain as toddler on the run. 
    -o0o-
    Moira tipped her face up to the sun.  Early spring in Nova Scotia never came with such lovely weather.
    Nell chuckled and sat down beside her.  “Ginia’s been doing that all day.”
    Aye.  Their young healer had done yeoman’s work teasing all the flowers into bloom for the wedding.  They’d all had a hand in Lauren’s bouquet, though, showering it in magic, beauty, and shared laughter.
    Might Lauren and Devin be blessed with all of it every day of their lives.
    And old women weren’t the only healers who should be taking a rest after the morning’s activities.  Moira gazed over the busyness of Witch Central preparing for joy.  “Have you seen Sophie?”  Very